


The Lockbox

by shutendouji



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Femme Fatale, Goths, Intro to my nanowrimo novel, Japanese Folklore, Japanese Mythology - Freeform, Living Mansions, Oni, Opium, Port Townsend, Shinto, The Port universe, Washington, Youkai, sake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 08:50:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12128892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutendouji/pseuds/shutendouji
Summary: Upon moving into a new house with her fiancee and roommates, Keisa gets an interesting artifact from a mysterious new friend.The Portuniverse and introduction to myNaNoWriMonovel, Akai Oni: The Pillow Book of Shuten-douji.





	The Lockbox

I was never one for small towns.

Nature? Sure. I love hikes and spending time outside.

But the people in small towns? Intolerable, human or youkai. I hate the gossip, the whole “everyone knows everyone” rhetoric, the lack of things to do. As much as I loved the Victorian-styled mansion we moved into, I wasn’t a huge fan of the sleepy surroundings or the view of the open Pacific Ocean. I didn’t like the ocean. There was too much unknown beneath the surface.

I wasn’t sure how many people lived with us, as the house itself was a type of youkai. It was a living organism, expanding constantly, with enough personality that one had to be careful going from room to room. In the house tour, we learned that the mansion’s name was Eloise, and if a door was locked, it was probably a new room, and sometimes Eloise didn’t like her privacy violated.

Tess and I were given maps to our master bedroom and ordered to strictly follow it, so as to not get lost in the endless hallways, the eternally-spiraling staircases, or to open a door to a deathtrap. Even our maps appeared to be alive, constantly growing and adjusting to the living house.

Our bedroom was on the third floor, just up the lefthand spiral staircase, down the not-endless hallway, first door on the right. I was the one to test the doorknob as Tess chewed her lip, worriedly watching her map expand. It opened on the first try.

“All clear!” I told my fiancée.

“Look at that. I wonder if that’s one of the deathtrap rooms,” Tess said, pointing to the door behind us.

I turned around. There was a bedroom across from us with the sign, “Tora’s Zone: Do Not Enter Unless You Want To Be Eaten Alive.” I leaned closer to it and squinted. There was fine print beneath it, in a rather old version of Oni, “Women are safe here.”

I did what I felt was the smart thing. I knocked.

“Keisa!” Tess shrieked. “That could be a living room!”

I rolled my eyes. “They’re all living rooms, Tessie. There’s only one way to find out if there’s another living being in it!”

The door swung open without warning, and an oni stepped out. She was taller than me but shorter than Tess, with her black hair crimped and teased into a deathhawk. Her horns curled down and forward like a ram, her ears pointed and slightly frayed. She wore thick eyeliner, deep plum lipstick, various necklaces nestling in her ample cleavage, a shiny corset, a leather miniskirt, and thigh high fishnet stockings. Between well-manicured red claws, she held what looked to be a rather long, skinny pipe.

She looked terrifying, far scarier than any oni I had ever seen, and not because of her extra, gothic dominatrix look, but because of two tiny details I noticed. The first was that her monolidded, almond-shaped eyes were bright red, glittering like freshly-cut rubies, and she had her septum pierced, an onyx-studded septum clicker resting comfortably in the middle of her nose. She had various other piercings, but in oni culture, the septum was the most important. It signified someone of high status, some sort of leader or high-ranked warrior.

I looked over at Tess, who had her arms crossed over her faded metal shirt she got from an open air concert we went to three years ago. Her shorts were cutoff jeans, frayed and bleach stained, and her Converse were worn and dirty. I could tell by the way she jiggled her legs that she felt drastically underdressed, and I was inclined to agree. After all, for the car ride, I had thrown on old sweatpants and one of Tess’ plain black t’s, so I looked like a messy child in comparison to the two of them, especially the goth in front of us.

The mysterious oni blew smoke in my face, and I was immediately assaulted by a flowery smell unlike any weed or tobacco I had ever smelled. It made my eyes droop for a second, but I shook away the hazy feeling, intrigued by this terrifying figure before us.

She pouted. “I thought you were my clients.” She spoke in Oni with an odd accent I couldn’t quite place. It sounded almost Japanese…did she speak the Old Oni dialect? Just how old was she?

“Clients?” I decided to ask.

She inhaled in thought, exhaling with the words, “I offer sexual services to the sailors and fishermen here. How else is a girl like me supposed to make money in this sleepy town?”

“Well, we’re sorry to disturb you,” Tess said, tugging my arm. Her voice was much higher than her usual husky tone, and I could tell she was nervous. Tess the Badass was afraid!

“Who are you?” I asked, fixated on the stranger’s septum ring.

She laughed a low husky sound, showing her brilliant fangs. “I was once called Toraguma-douji, the Slayer of Men, the Drinker of Blood, and one of Shuten-douji of Ooeyama’s personal assassins. But now, you can just call me Tora.”

I instinctively fell on the ground into a bow, and I felt Tess’ hand drop as she did the same. _The_ Toraguma-douji? Ooeyama’s clan was possibly the most infamous of all the oni clans from the past, being that it was where we got most of our modern culture. All oni children knew of the Great Four—which Tora was a part of, the leader—Shuten-douji—and her trickster wife—Ibaraki-douji.

“Get off the ground,” Tora said, waving her hand at us.

Tess and I exchanged looks. The middle of her face appeared as though it was glowing, the shadows casted by the lanterns in the hall further accentuating her vitiligo. Her eyes glittered like brilliant topazes, wide and worried.

Despite this, she stood first. “I’m…Tess Shuksan of Seattle. It’s a pleasure.”

I scrambled to my feet, tripping over my sweatpants. “Keisa Rainier. I’m her fiancée.”

Tora’s eyes brightened, and a wide grin appeared on her face. “Keisa? I’ve heard of you.”

I tilted my head. “How?”

“I read your blog.”

The room felt as though it was spinning. Was it whatever Tora was smoking, or was I just that anxious? “You…read my blog?”

“I have a lot of time on my hands.” Tora inspected her nails. “I love to see what the modern oni are doing these days, considering you’re probably one of my direct ancestors.” She opened her door wider. “Come in, you two. Let’s drink.”

I stepped through the threshold first, turning to watch Tess duck under the sacred ropes and paper— _shimenawa_ and _shide_ —guarding the room.

Tora’s room _felt_ ancient, yet spotless. The floors were tatami mats, like in most traditional Japanese and oni households, so we instinctively slipped off our shoes out of respect for the floor. Tapestries hung on the walls in an archaic font I couldn’t decipher. Bloodstained weapons hung on display, as well as the familiar symbol of the Ooeyama Clan, the _Cheika Sunato,_ or Swirling Hourglass.

Tora reached into a cupboard and pulled out a massive sake gourd and a few boxes. We kneeled, watching as she poured the cloudy liquid to the brim before handing them to us, setting the gourd in the middle.

Being a bartender, I knew what to do, traditionally. I found a third box and filled it for her, almost to the point of spilling, grateful for surface tension, and slid it over to her.

Tora beamed. “So respectful.” She took a long, thoughtful sip before taking another hit from her pipe.

“What is that?” I asked after a drink. The nigori was the strongest I had ever had and already almost made me swoon.

“Opium,” Tora exhaled. “Want some? It’s imported.”

I emitted a nervous giggle. “No thanks.”

Tora shrugged. “Let me get a look at you two.”

I expected her to inspect me first, but she scooted over to Tess first.

 

"You look so familiar. I'd recognize those eyes anywhere. That blue contrasts with the red so much..." she rested her hand on Tess' left horn, petting the plates in it. "May I see your other form?"

Tess set down the box and slowly transitioned herself. The room shook with her nervous energy. A brilliant red, duller than mine and far more intimidating, but bright nonetheless, took over her glorious muscles. Even so, she seemed tense.

“Interesting,” Tora breathed. “You look so much like Hoshi."

“Hoshiguma-douji?” I asked, then kicked myself for being such a fucking nerd.

Tora nodded. “Hoshi was easily the strongest of all of us. Are you strong, Tess darling?”

Tess shrugged. “I do okay.”

Tora pulled over the kotatsu—a floor table with a heater beneath it—and rested her elbow on it, hand up. “Arm wrestle?” Tora let herself fall into her other form, a brilliant red oni who radiated dangerous power and seduction.

I fell back, almost unable to breathe. I almost felt like I wasn’t supposed to see her.

Tess nodded nervously, looking as though she didn’t have much of a choice. I drank and watched in awe as Tess easily pushed Tora’s arm down. When she was through, she reverted to her humanoid form, panting. “You’re awfully strong,” Tess breathed.

“Yet you hardly struggled!” Tora clapped and reverted. “You definitely remind me of Hoshi. You have such a lovely energy about you. You’ll be a fine warrior some day…” Her voice trailed off, her red eyes clouding over.

“What’s wrong?” Tess asked, ever-empathetic.

“I worry for you,” Tora said, taking another drink. “Many youkai have been going missing as of late, and it’s always the strong ones who disappear. I’m worried that you’re who the Nappers are looking for.”

“Nappers?” I asked.

Tora shrugged. “I’m old, but not omniscient. I have no idea who they are, aside from the fact that many kind but tough youkai are disappearing and never heard from again. Keep an eye on Tess, okay?”

I nodded, swallowing a lump in my throat.

“I’ll do my best to watch over you both.”

Tess and I exchanged nervous glances, an awkward silence settling over the area heavier than Tora’s opium.

“How did you end up in Washington?” I asked, being better at small talk than Tess.

Tora shrugged. “It didn’t feel right staying in Japan. Too many of my people fell. I grew lonely. Needed a change of atmosphere. I originally went to Granite Falls to see the Grand Shrine of America.” She giggled. “You have no idea how much we Japanese are fascinated with you Americans. But the shrine was beautiful. I had an apartment there for a while, until my friend Kagami, the owner of Eloise, decided to invite me to live with her. I was ecstatic to live in a youkai house, so I agreed, and I’ve been here for the last twenty years.”

We drank in silence for a moment. I had never been to the Grand Shrine, but a thought passed my mind that perhaps Tess and I should get married there. After all, what place would be more accepting of an oni wedding than a Shinto shrine, those who respect nature and nature beings the most?

My thoughts dissipated as Tora scooted over to me. “Your horns are so...unusual. I don't see oni with antlers very often."

Instinctively, I reached up toward them, blushing. "Thanks?"

"You’re such a tiny thing,” she said, motioning toward my thin appearance. “You should eat Kagami’s food.”

“I have,” I said. “I eat constantly. I’m just naturally thin.”

“What were your human parents?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea."

“She’s a natural ginger,” Tess added.

Tora clicked her tongue. “Like Shuten-douji herself, which is why I’ve been dying to meet you.”

“I’ve never met her, if that’s what you’re wondering. I don’t think we’re related.”

“You look an awful lot like her,” Tora said. “She also had red hair, but she, like me, was Japanese-born. It was quite the anomaly. She was also very tiny, like you, but she had a bit more meat on her.” Tora squeezed my arm and chuckled.

I frowned. “I can’t help it. I eat, I exercise.”

Tess raised an eyebrow at me. “When was the last time you went to the gym with me?”

“I try to exercise!” I protested. “But my blog takes up most of my time.”

“This blog is why I wanted to meet you. I thought of emailing you so many times.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t,” I offered. “I don’t check my email ever.”

Tora frowned. “Have modern people moved on from email now?”

I nodded.

Tora exhaled and stared at the ceiling. “I can’t keep up.”

“It’s okay. Why do you follow my blog?”

“Because, for one thing, you have your blog translated in Oni, so I can understand it. I speak some English, but it’s rough and I’m not able to understand writing in it very well. I prefer our tongues, ancient and modern. And you are the only modern oni I know who speaks the ancient tongue.”

I noticed that Tora slipped into the older version of Oni, which sounded much more like Japanese, its odd vibrations settling in my ears like an old friend.

“I try my best,” I said in Old Oni.

“She reads a lot,” Tess said in Modern Oni. “I don’t know the Old Tongue, but she’s taught me some things.”

“They’re a bit different,” Tora said in Modern Oni. “I have these pillow books that were gifted to me upon Shuten-douji’s death.”

My eyes widened. “The originals?” There has never been books I’ve been more anxious to read than the ones of the Oni Queen herself.

“Yes. She entrusted them to me right before she and Hoshi committed seppuku for their crimes. I’ve been holding them for years, waiting for someone to translate and publish them.”

“Why not do it yourself?”

Tora laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I don’t need more attention attracted to myself. I try to stay in the shadows, making money to survive here and there, but mostly keeping to myself. You’re young, brilliant, and a talented writer. You deserve the fame and glory, not me. I’ve already won enough heads on the battlefield.”

I nodded. Tora had fair points. “Where are they?” I asked.

Tora stood, dusting off her stockings, and lifted a part of the tatami mat. She pulled up a lockbox. It was large and dusty, and had the name “Ibuki Miaka” etched into it with what looked like a dagger. I realized as the room spun that Miaka must have been Shuten-douji’s True Name, and how few people must’ve known what it was. I felt so honored in this moment that I wasn’t sure what to say. My mouth felt dry.

“They are in here.”

“Is there a key?”

Tora reached into a drawer in the kotatsu and tossed me her key ring. “It’s the skeleton key. Take it off and keep it. You’re now the Keeper of the Books, if you don’t mind.”

I nodded. “This is…truly an honor, Toraguma-douji.”

“Tora. Just Tora.”

“Tora.”

“I would like you to take your time. Translate them into Modern Oni and English. Post them on your blog, then publish them. Get Shuten-douji’s side of the story out. If humans and other youkai accept it, maybe it’ll change the way humans view us as a whole.” Tora smiled, a tear falling down her cheek, leaving a line of eyeliner in its wake. “It’s what Shuten would’ve wanted.”

“Has Shuten-douji been reborn?” Tess asked.

Tora shrugged. “If she has, I’m sure she has stayed in hiding. But if there’s anything I can bank on, it’s that she would be reincarnated with her soul mate.”

“Her soul mate?” Tess and I asked in unison.

“Hoshi.”

I nodded.

“I can tell you two are soul mates from your similarities to them alone. They would’ve loved you two.” Tora took a mournful drag of her opium and rested her hand over her chest. “It’s been years, but I still miss them.”

Tess wrapped her muscular arms around Tora. “I know what it’s like to lose the ones you love.”

Tora sniffed and leaned into the hug, closing her eyes. “You’re such a sweet thing, Tess.” She gave Tess a peck on the forehead, and turned to embrace both of us. She smelled like flowers and saltwater. “Do my clan the honor of translating the text, please.”

“I won’t let you down, Tora,” I said, swallowing yet another throat lump.

“It’s not me. It’s for Shuten. I’m just fulfilling her will.”

“That’s very loyal of you,” Tess said softly.

“It’s how our kind is, is it not?” Tora asked, wiping beneath her eyes and withdrawing from the embrace. “We’re loyal and honest to a fault.” She cleared her throat and opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by a knock on the door. “That’s my client.” She shook away her sadness and closed the floor. “Go explore the house and read the text. And take care of each other, please. I’ll see you at dinner.”

We bowed and departed.

Tess carried out the lockbox, being the stronger of us, and set it beside the dresser of our room.

“We haven’t even explored our room yet,” I said. “We gotta make it look cute.”

Tess shoved her hands in her pockets and grinned. “You and your aesthetics.”

“What is a life without aesthetics?” I protested.

Tess gave me that smirk of hers, the one where she looks as though she’s about to talk shit. “I think I’m beginning to see why Tora was comparing you to the Oni Queen. If I were an Oni Queen, that’s what I’d say.”

I giggled and tackled Tess to the mattress, tickling her teasingly as she gasped for air.

“You take that back!” I hollered.

“Never!” she roared with laughter, trying to push me off. The tickling became a full-on brawl, and somehow in the moment with my fiancée, I forgot all about why we were play-fighting at all. I just lost myself in the moment with her.

Maybe we really were soul mates. I sure as shit hoped so.

**Author's Note:**

> The Tsubaki Grand Shrine of America in Granite Falls, Washington is a REAL place, and as a Shintoist, I'm very excited to visit it! [Here is their website!](http://www.tsubakishrine.org/index.html) It's ran by some very lovely people.


End file.
